As Time Goes By
by Urgence
Summary: Based on speculation, and set in Fallout 4, this story takes the view of the protagonist of the game who finds himself telling his story in a wasteland drinking establishment. Painful memories are better suited with a strong drink. Rated T for language. Male Protagonist. Presumed deceased family. 9/27/2015: Codsworth and Fallout 4 now added.


"I had a wife…"

 _Nora._

Thoughts of her are almost enough to bring the tears out. Almost. But they have been shed many times over. I'll be damned if I allow them to resurface again after all the recovery I have made. Recovery that just _barely_ qualifies as progress.

In reflection, what I had just said sounds like a line from some movie. I would laugh if I wasn't fighting off the negative feelings that are gnawing at me. I don't know the people around me listening to my story, not at all, but for some reason I'd feel ashamed to break down in front of them.

Even having seen brutal things in combat doesn't seem to help me. Again, I'd laugh if I didn't border on feeling like utter shit.

This bar can ultimately be summed up by the word "makeshift". I've seen many like it in the months since I left the vault, but this feels more… cozy. I can't really describe it, and I don't much care too. I'm too busy enjoying two-hundred year old whiskey, a drink that helped fight off the cold nights in the wasteland.

I'm not sure what exactly it was before the new owner came in. A lot of the furniture looked as if it was dragged in from the outside. There's some rust, but it isn't that bad. Overall, it is higher quality in comparison to places like it.

People from all over are in this place. Who knows where they go their caps, but they're all spending it here. _Bottle caps_ of all thing. To think that after the bombs dropped it would be bottle caps that would be what people use as money.

"We'd known each other for a while, but I only noticed her after I was trying to figure life out. Went out to dinner a few times, and then I began to realize I loved her…" Damn. I think my brain is trying to fuck me over, make me want to violently weep. When I first mourned, for her, for _my child_ , I would find a corner and I wouldn't move – for hours.

I'd argue it was Codsworth that kept me alive. If it weren't for him, who knows what would have found me? By now I'm all too familiar with the practices of the raiders of the Wasteland.

I tell those still listening to me a bit more about Nora and I. Smaller details, such as and the things we did together when we were dating. It does lead to bigger things, like my proposal to her, and the wedding. Talking about former makes my heart hurt, but I'm still talking.

"We had a house near Vault one-eleven. It wasn't perfect, but it was our first one. It was going to be the place where she and I built our lives together. A family…"

My mind briefly flashes to the words of the news reporter on the day the bombs dropped. It all felt so unreal, and it was almost like being in a dream. God, I wish it had been. But no, it was the apocalypse starting.

Would the fire from the blasts have been painless?

Eyes are still upon me in the bar. They want to hear me keep going, and I swallow before I do. "I didn't really know the neighbors very well to be honest. I… being a soldier, decorated, they prioritized me for a space in the vault."

These next words hurt. "I didn't think they'd resort to using the bombs. Some of the people I served with, fuck, even members of my family thought they would, but I didn't."

My whiskey glass is empty for a reason I can't recall. Guess I've been too distracted to notice how many times I've been bringing it to my lips. The bartender, after I ask, refills it.

No charge. He tells me the story is payment enough.

"As bad as it was, I just remember yelling at Nora to… to take Sean, and then we were out the door." My eyes caught Codsworth floating by the door, and I add, "The vault only had room for us three. I remember looking at Codsworth before we went out the door, but I don't think we said anything."

Yes, there were those who'd probably laugh at being sentimental with a robot but that robot was one of the few things I had left in my life from before. I'm reminded about something else I currently have in my possession, but I won't address it now.

"Everyone was yelling, _screaming_ outside. They didn't seem to know what they should do, and that's probably how it was. The world was ending. What the hell are you supposed to do? I mean, we had the vault, we had direction, but they? No clue."

There were families like mine in that neighborhood. Couples with children… I don't allow myself to consider what happened to them. Even if I didn't know them, I can't help but feel sad when I compare my own life to theirs.

"Nora and I took off running towards the vault. It wasn't long before we were exhausted. We made it though. And I felt myself get scared shitless when I saw the line standing out front. I remember thinking "how long is this going to take?" because I know they had to make sure everyone in that line was who they said they were. But then I heard one of the soldiers guarding the way yelling…"

 _Those with reservations in the vault, come forward! All those without a reservation will have to wait until we process those with reservations!_

The people, those who had been standing in the line when we got there, they never made it to the vault. I know this for sure, and it is another haunting part of the past that just added to the weight of being alive at that moment.

"We told them who we were. Proofed it, and they let us all through with a few others who also had a spot in the vault. And when we got to the platform that would lower us down into the vault…"

 _I love you. Both of you…_

God help me.

My hands were shaking so badly I had to put down the whiskey glass. If I didn't, I think I'd have dropped it in the next moment or spilled whatever was still left inside.

"The bombs hit. I felt myself lose my footing but the platform was lowering. The people in the vault came over, and took us away from the entrance. I have… trouble recalling exactly what happened, but I remember hearing a lot about radiation." My eyes turn downward. "…We got hit by a pretty good dosage of radiation. The cryo pods were the only thing that could probably ensure that we didn't just die in the next few hours. And even then… there was a high chance it wouldn't work…"

Drawing in a breath, I continue to speak. I spoke about emerging from the pod, not realizing that my old life was utterly gone. I spoke, barely, about the dead I found in the vault and how I had my first encounter with "ghouls" before I got to the exit.

But the point of it all is clear.

Nora is gone. Sean is gone.

After I finish, I'm tempted to get another glass of whiskey. It won't help at that point, and I decide against it. I'm not sure what I wanted really… As in control as I am compared to when I first felt my wife's loss, I still am a long way away from being "alright".

There's a person in the bar who calls my story bullshit, but it doesn't trigger anything. I'm too hollow to care. Another drinker tells him to shut the fuck up, and they begin to verbally fight. The bartender steps in, threatening to put them both down if they start anything. It works, and they go back to drinking.

One of the people listening is a short, blonde woman who moved in closer after the others go about their own business.

She felt pity for me, and believed my story. I can't say that made me happy. Again, I'm struggling to feel anything substantial at that moment. It is when this woman softly touches my face that I realize she wanted to give me comfort.

I really shouldn't be interested, but fuck I need to feel. While alcohol does chase away the cold, another person can be a very good source of warmth.

It is hard for me to describe how bad I suddenly want this.

Ten caps to the bartender, and we have a room. Codsworth won't mind waiting by himself. Two hundred years went by before we saw each other again, so a night won't hurt. If I was in a better mood, I'd probably chuckle at this thought.

Before I left the bar and followed this woman to the room, I glanced at the gold band on one of my fingers. A shaky breath passed through my lungs.

Forgive me, Nora…

* * *

 _This story emerged from listening to various songs, but I think "As Time Goes By" (From Casablanca) seemed to be an appropriate title. Thank you for reading._

 _9/27/2015: I was unsure if they'd add what I requested to the categories, given that Fallout 4 isn't out yet, but they were nice enough to do so._


End file.
